And We Shall Tango Through The Night
by Morgana Maeve
Summary: Axel.Roxas..Mature.Audiences. Their dust is not metaphorical, and it happens every night.


And We Shall Tango Through The Night

Morgana Maeve

My first Axel/Roxas done on my new laptop. How I love it. Anyway, written in celebration of summer. May yours be longer and less wonky than Roxas'.

Warnings: Roxas on Axel goodness. Boy on boy. You know you love it. Some vague S&M and a threesome too. Talks about sex and other cool stuff. Man, this has got everything. I deserve to be locked up. Um…not intended for those younger than seventeen and for those who enjoy fluff and not bloody banging for the hell of bloody banging.

Disclaimer: I own nada. Well actually, I own the plot, but the characters are shamelessly stolen from Kingdom Hearts. Thank you, Squeenix.

-B-E-G-I-N-

_The steps of the tango are intricate and complex, each movement serving a purpose, each sway a story of denial and acquiesce._

Neither one serves a purpose except to follow the Superior, and both are chaotic, undisciplined, the elder a whirlwind of destructive force, the younger an implosion of suppressed anger.

At first, they are enemies, and they have the scars to prove it, dozens of tiny crisscrossing lines bisecting Roxas' arms, craters of puckered flesh dotting Axel's belly. Sometimes, at the very beginning, deep within that dark, rainy city, the two would meet, and by the end of the meeting, they would stand apart, dripping dust into puddles, breathing hard and heavy, weapons out, bodies suffering.

It takes them a while to realize these meeting are on purpose.

_The tango is passionate, an embrace of the chest, the arms, the thighs. Once contact has begun, partners do no leave each other. For the night, they belong to each other and to the music._

In white marble halls, they pass and trade whispered insults, cursing at each other under their breaths. Sometimes, the other Nobodies hear them and snicker, but Demyx is the only one who has ever tried to intervene. He won't anymore though, not after that one time Axel pushed him against the wall and threatened with an inflamed fist.

As time moves sluggishly by, ticking down the minutes to their termination, they discover things about each other that inexplicably draw them closer. Axel discovers that Roxas enjoys pain, likes to watch eyes close in agony, likes to be the power inflicting that pain, and Roxas discovers that Axel will take the pain up to a certain point and not more, that Axel can bring himself to accept a lash with a homemade whip so long as the scars will fade away.

And so, it becomes a game between the two, who can push who to the limit, and much to his dismay, Axel finds that Roxas has no limit, carries no inhibitions, is tied down by no consciousness. All that still belongs to Sora. And gradually, Axel finds himself falling under this blue-eyed sadist's spell, and he is horrified, but by now, there is nothing he can do.

That is not to say that Axel is the perfect masochist, for he is not. He will fight back, lash out with a whip of his own when the beating becomes too harsh, and Roxas sometimes has the teeth marks to prove it, a perfect set of puncture wounds on his wrist where Axel bit down when Roxas rode him too hard.

_The tango is elegant, sensual. It is the ultimate form of a mating ritual, a public display of what the sex scene should be, slow and erotic, two bodies pulsing together in the beat of the music, sweat dampening hands that pull hair back._

Their sex is rough, for neither truly remembers what love should be, and both have perverted their phantasmagoric remembrances of what it was like. So they go at it with fists and legs flailing, Roxas always on top, always in control. He bites and pinches and leaves red welts, but pain is the only sensation a Nobody really knows, so this all enhances the experience. For Axel, there is always that feeling of tearing open, of seams popping and bleeding, a shearing that starts deep within the hidden recesses of his body and splits outwards. But shamefully, he enjoys it, and by this time he needs it, and so, when Roxas presses his chest to Axel's back and whispers all sorts of things so horribly removed from sweet nothings, Axel always moans back for more, for harder.

Orgasm is as intense as it can be, an eruption of nothingness, an implosion of nothingness, and it leaves the two drained, spent for that hour until one or the other needs it again, and then they're back, two bodies one, and this is where it gets messy.

The pain is acute, stabs of it traveling up from loins to mind, and Roxas' hips crash against his own in this room of shadows, their chests slapping against each other, and both will be bruised by morning. Teeth clamp hungrily to skin, replica of Roxas' incisors branded onto Axel's neck, long claw marks tracing a path of passion down Roxas' back, a retaliation of Axel, nails ripping open false flesh, coat of dusty black hardening over the gouges.

One time, Demyx walks in on them, Axel tied to the bed, entire frame shaking as he fights his way free, fire burning fragile cloth, and there is Roxas, sitting atop him as a king will sit on his throne, flames licking his thighs hungrily, angry blisters boiling in sorrow.

Out of the virgin throat comes a strangled gargle, and Roxas' eyes snap open, blue hell-fire glowing in the black room, and Demyx nearly dies, for that is the image of the devil and temptation. And temptation he is, for sweaty and out-of-control Roxas, deep within a moment of pure, insane bliss, holds out his hand, a beckoning.

The beckoning is answered, the sight of two writhing bodies too much for the ignorant, and together, Axel and Roxas wrap Demyx in the cocoon of their bodies, an abomination of six legs and six arms.

They never talk again after that, epiphany too much for Demyx, and when he finally goes off to fight Sora, he remembers that night of insanity, can see that hell-fire flicker in Sora's eyes, and he dies again, this time for real. One last lucid thought pities Kairi, for one day, she too will know and cherish the scars.

_Eventually, the dance must end, and each partner breathes heavy and loud, strange longing blooming in their chests. Such is the power of the tango._

Axel and Roxas' dance is not the tango, at least not in the traditional sense, but they are both passionate in their perverseness, and they both deny and comply in the worst possible ways, and so they shall tango through the night 'til the sun shatters the horizon, and they will continue to do so 'til the stars come crashing down around them.

It is closer than they think.

-F-I-N-I-T-O-

Dark. Very dark. And probably very traumatizing. I apologize for my wacked out character studies. Disney'd probably die a hundred times over if they ever read this.

I tried to find some info about the tango before I wrote this, but Wikipedia failed me, and I had to go with what I learned from _Dancing With the Stars. _If anything is incorrect, I apologize.

Hell, if I ever get another boyfriend (and I probably won't), this'll be the first thing I'm deleting.

I can has review of reads? (Or fanart. That's awesome as well. –hinthint-)


End file.
